Hogwarts Hescapades
by Stargone
Summary: Dorothy's starting her third year at Hogwarts, and she still has not made any friends. It's not for lack of trying, of course—she's just busy. And people can be boring. But Dorothy's life is about to change. And she's going to need friends more than ever. Let's hope she can find some good ones. (I'll try to do a chapter a week at least. Rated K for mild language & such.)


Dorothy was late again.

This year, however, it was not entirely her fault. It was _mostly _not her fault, in fact. Not that she wanted to blame her father. She knew it must be rough, being a single parent, trying to make enough money to support his daughter and at the same trying to raise her properly—especially since she was a witch.

She figured that wasn't something any parent planned on when they had kids. Or at least not any _muggle _parent. And she had to say she thought her father was doing an admirable job, all things considered.

But he did tend to be a bit scatterbrained. And forgetting a dentist appointment was one thing. Forgetting Dorothy was supposed to be leaving for Hogwarts on September 1st was something else entirely.

She sat in the car, fidgeting anxiously with the corner of her robes. She continuously glanced at the car clock, biting her lip. She hated cutting it this close. She hated cutting it close at all. She preferred to be perfectly punctual. But...things just seemed to _happen _around her. It was like someone had given her a permanent anti-luck potion at birth. Was there even such a thing as an anti-luck potion? She'd have to ask the potions master when she got to Hogwarts.

_If _she made it to the station in time.

She caught her father glancing at her in the rear view mirror. She offered him a weak smile. He pushed his glasses up his nose. His eyebrows were fixed high on his forehead and slanted up, giving him a permanent look of surprised worry. "So. Er," he said. "You'll write every day. Won't you?"

"Yes, Dad," she said. Ever since she'd gotten her own owl he always made her write as often as she could. Poor Claudius was exhausted by the end of the school year. She glanced at where he sat in his cage, belted into the seat next to her, and mouthed _Sorry. _His only reply was a baleful stare.

"And—and don't go gallivanting with any of those—those Slithering kids," he added seriously.

If she weren't so anxious, Dorothy would have laughed. "It's Slytherin, Dad. And I've already told you, there are plenty of nice kids in Slytherin."

"Mm. Right. Of course." He pushed his glasses up his nose again. Ever since he'd spoken with the parent of some Gryffindor at the station last year, his view of Slytherins had dropped dramatically. It was almost amusing. "The Huddlepuffs, they seem like a safer bet."

Dorothy rolled her eyes. "Hufflepuffs." _And they're all a bunch of idiots, _she added silently.

Her father seemed miffed. "These names are ridiculous, has anyone told them that?"

"I'm sure someone has," Dorothy said. She sat up straighter in her seat. They were pulling up to the station. "Just let me out here!"

"Dorothy," he scolded, "be patient."

"Dad, I'm _really _late! I don't want the train to leave without me!" She unbuckled her seat belt, and then Claudius's, too. "Just stop here and open the trunk! Please?"

With a sigh of resignation, he did as she asked. She hopped out of the car and dragged her trunk out of the back. Right about now she wished she could do magic outside of school—her drunk could really use a charm to make it a bit lighter. "Bye Dad! Thanks! Love you!" She leaned through his open window to give him an awkward one-armed hug. "See you at Christmas!" Then she turned and raced for the platform.

She didn't, however, run into the brick wall. She knew full well it would close up if she was too late, and she didn't feel like adding a broken nose or a concussion to her long string of bad luck. She stopped short in front of the brick and did a quick scan to make sure no one was watching before she shoved her trunk into the bricks. It went straight through.

Relieved, she walked forward confidently—

And hit her head on the bricks.

She stumbled back and swore. Of _course. _Of _course _it would close just as she was about to go through. She rubbed her forehead and glared at the bricks. Just her luck. She dropped Claudius's cage to the ground (he ruffled his feathers indignantly) and sat down next to it. _Now what? _she thought.

Just then bricks rippled, and a hand stuck through them and beckoned to her. She leapt to her feet, grabbing Claudius's cage, and took the hand. It hauled her through the bricks, which felt a little thicker and stickier than normal. She stumbled out onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters and found herself face to face with the trolley witch from the train.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said.

The witch smiled. "It was nothing," she said, turning to levitate Dorothy's trunk onto the train.

"I saw your trunk come through and I realized you must be trapped out there. I charmed it open for a little longer." She tucked her wand away after securing the trunk. "Now hurry, or there won't be any seats left."

Dorothy didn't need any further encouragement. She raced for the train.

Inside she made her way along the mostly empty corridors—everyone had found a seat already, and all the compartments were full. Well, all but one, that is. Dorothy had just about been resigned to standing the whole trip when she came to the very end of the train and found one empty compartment.

"Thank goodness," she murmured, and opened the door. _Finally, _she was thinking, _a bit of good luck at last._

But upon entering the compartment she found that actually, it wasn't _quite _empty. There was a dark-eyed boy sitting silently in the corner.

"Oh," she said, a little disappointed that she wouldn't have the place all to herself. "Hello."

The boy looked Dorothy up and down, and his lip curled a bit. Dorothy knew her robes were a bit shabby, and she hadn't had time to shower so her hair was a frizzy mess, but she still didn't think she quite deserved that expression. She sat down on the opposite side of the compartment and tried to ignore this boy.

It was surprisingly easy, actually. After several annoyed looks in her direction, the boy just drew his knees up to his chest, rested his cheek on them, and looked sideways out the window. That was perfectly all right with Dorothy, who used the quiet to catch up on reading. She'd brought a few books in a knapsack along with her lunch, like she always did, to read on the train. She was able to read through one and a half by lunchtime, and was feeling pretty pleased with herself. Although she hadn't been pleased about the compartment situation at first, she was now perfectly happy with it. It meant she wouldn't have to try and be interested in the boring conversations of her seat mates, just to be polite—and there was the added bonus of it being quiet enough for her to properly concentrate on her books.

When the trolley witch finally arrived at their compartment, she winked at Dorothy. "Anything from the cart?"

"No thanks," Dorothy said.

The witch turned to the dark-eyed boy. "Jamison?" She gave him a kind smile.

Jamison didn't even look up. "Not today, Bee," he muttered, continuing to gaze out the window.

Dorothy pretended to be focused on her book, but she glanced between the trolley witch and Jamison, wondering how exactly they had come to be on first name basis. She hadn't even considered that the trolley witch _had _a name (a fact which she now felt really embarrassed about).

The trolley witch—or, well, Bee—sighed softly, her smile fading. She rooted around on her cart for a moment, then emerged with a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She tossed it across the compartment at Jamison. For a second Dorothy was worried it would smack him in the side of the head, and was inches away from whipping out her wand to freeze the box in midair. But before she could, Jamison's hand shot out, and he caught it.

"At least you're not completely alone this year, dear," Bee said to him, giving Dorothy pointed look.

Jamison didn't say anything, just tore open the box of jellybeans with a fierceness that was a little bit worrying.

With another sigh, Bee gave Dorothy a long look. "I'll just leave you two, then," she said, and rolled her trolley away down the corridor.

Slowly, Dorothy closed her book. She pulled her lunch out of her knapsack and started to unwrap it in her lap. When she glanced up, she saw Jamison carefully select a black bean from the box.

"Er—I think that's pepper," she said, feeling like she ought to warn him.

"I know," he said coolly, and popped it in his mouth.

She raised an eyebrow and turned back to her lunch, taking a carrot stick and dipping it into her cup of hummus.

"Damn!" Jamison's voice startled her, and she looked up. He was spitting out a pinkish-orange one into his palm.

"What?" she asked, nervous about what flavor that might be.

"Peach," he muttered. "I was hoping for vomit."

Dorothy couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously?"

He glared at her. She just blinked at him, grinning.

"Are you a pureblood?" he asked quite suddenly.

Her grin soured. That was not her favorite question. "What's it to you?"

"You're not, are you." It wasn't a question. It was actually more of an affronted sniff.

"No," she said shortly. No use lying.

"Oh thank god," he said.

Dorothy was surprised, and a bit relieved, by his reaction. She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. She hesitated.

"I'm Dorothy," she said. "By the way."

He glared at her with only slightly less annoyance than before.

"You don't have any friends, do you?" she guessed.

"Thank you for reminding me," he muttered.

"Neither do I," she said.

There was a pause.

"I already know your name, so you don't need to like, introduce yourself or anything," Dorothy said. She held out her hand. After a brief pause, he took it. His hand was a little sticky. She tried not to grimace. "Nice to meet you, Jamison."

He grunted. Then he offered her a pepper jellybean, holding it out as if it were a nugget of gold. She took it and looked it over. It probably wouldn't taste very good, but he obviously liked them. She bit off half of it.

She immediately started coughing. He smirked.

And that was how she met Jamison.


End file.
